Case Ritual
by Kelsey
Summary: It's not their habit to talk about the rough cases. DM slash, postep, no spoilers.


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**Case Ritual**

**By**

**Kelsey**

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**Disclaimer: Not mine. Belong to Bruckheimer and some other people. Believe me, if I owned them, there'd be way more Danny/Martin.**

**Summary: It's not their habit to talk about the rough cases. D/M. Post-ep, but no spoilers.**

**Rating: PG**

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It's not their habit to talk about the rough cases. Martin believes firmly in silent stoicism, and Danny, while willing to admit something is bothering him, is rarely willing to admit _why. _Which is how come they've developed an alternate response to talking, for dealing with the rough days that their jobs invariably bring.

Because they're friends first and foremost, they don't hesitate to leave together most days. Today, though, Martin ducks out as Danny is finishing up the paperwork. On his way to the door, he sits down on the edge of Danny's desk and lays a hand on his friend's shoulder. "My place tonight?" he asks in a soft voice.

After a long moment, Danny finally raises his head to meet Martin's eyes briefly. "Sure." He returns to his paperwork.

"Danny." Martin waits patiently until Danny raises his head again, looking a little annoyed this time.

"Yeah?"

"Soon?" It's phrased as a question, but Martin knows that Danny will interpret it as a request, which is how he meant it.

This time Danny's head comes up quickly, but his verbal response is slower-- he just looks into Martin's eyes for a few long moments before giving a jerky nod. "Okay."

Satisfied, Martin leaves. On his way home, he picks up takeout from Danny's favorite Chinese place. When he gets to his apartment, he puts the food on the coffee table, along with forks and a couple of sodas. Danny won't be in the right mood for chopsticks tonight. Once he's set this all up, Martin tunes the television to a recap of last week's Mets game and waits.

He doesn't have to wait long-- Danny could and would work well into the night if Martin hadn't extracted that semi-promise from him, but now that he knows Martin is waiting for him, he'll be prompt. Martin waits patiently, and within half an hour, there's a knock at the door.

Martin opens the door, and Danny hands up his own coat. They are silent as they move back into the living room, the only sound Danny's soft "thanks" as Martin hands him one of the takeout cartons and a fork. Martin only replies with a nod.

They watch the ball game in silence, and as the food dwindles, Danny inches closer to Martin. Martin doesn't say anything, just finishes his food and puts the empty container aside, then lifts his arm once Danny is close enough. Danny looks reluctant, but somehow compelled to obey Martin's tacit order, the same way he always is when this happens. Martin's never sure why he looks so reluctant and he's never asked-- the important part is that despite his reluctance, Danny allows himself to take the comfort being offered.

Danny leans over and lets himself soft of flop down on Martin's lap. His head rests on Martin's thigh and he throws his legs out down the rest of the couch, a posture that Martin knows won't last long. Sure enough, as soon as Martin buries his hand in Danny's hair, Danny's back curls and his knees draw up and he's suddenly no longer the picture of a tense FBI agent, but a little ball of Danny with his head on Martin's lap.

Martin's fingers comb through Danny's hair, something that soothes them both. This is largely the reason that Danny hasn't cut his hair short again since Martin joined the team, although he'll admit it to no one.

After such a long, stressful case, Danny's hair is a little greasy with sweat and natural oils, as opposed to the silky-soft feel of its just-washed state, but the gentle caresses are what both he and Martin are after, and assessment of the state of his hair ranks low on the scale of priorities.

The black strands fall through Martin's fingers as he slowly combs through them, putting gentle pressure on Danny's scalp with his fingertips. They don't talk.

After a while, Danny sighs and starts to uncurl. Martin takes this as his cue to stop massaging, and mostly stills his hand, but leaves it buried in Danny's hair. The gentle movements that he continues to make are mere echoes of his earlier firm massages, but now that Danny is more relaxed, they are exactly right. When Danny's body is lying completely long along the couch again, Martin reluctantly removes his hand.

"Don't." Danny looks like he's asleep, languid and relaxed, but his tone is wide awake. This isn't the first time that he's requested that Martin continue to pet his hair while he lies there and thinks, but it's been a long day and they work tomorrow. Martin thinks that it would benefit Danny to get some sleep rather than just lie here and think all night, which he will do if Martin lets him.

"Let's go to bed," he says.

Danny doesn't move, not quite complaining but making it clear that he'd rather not. Martin rubs his hand over his lover's shoulder and down his side, then lets it rest on Danny's bony hip. He's in good shape, but very lean, and Martin always suppresses a glint of worry when he feels bone under skin. Danny swears that his doctor says he's fine, though, and it's not like the condition has changed since Martin has known him, so he tries hard not to let the concern surface. "Please?" he says softly.

Danny sighs, then heaves himself up from Martin's lap. "Alright. Bed." He glances around the living room, locates the remote and turns off the television, which has been muted for the past hour anyway. "Want some help cleaning up?"

Martin shakes his head. "No, I've got it. Go lie down if you want."

Danny helps him clean up anyway. It's another one of those things that Martin knows but doesn't talk about-- Danny won't lie down alone after a hard case. He seems to think that the horizontal position is what brings out the ghosts. As nonsensical as that attitude may be, Martin is only glad that his presence is enough to lure Danny to bed. He knows that if he weren't here, Danny either wouldn't be sleeping, or he'd fall asleep in a chair somewhere once he was so exhausted that he could no longer keep his eyes open, and neither is good for him.

Once the takeout containers are in the trash, Danny heads for the bedroom, and Martin follows willingly. There's no discussion as they strip down to boxers, but then Danny pulls off his boxers, too, and just looks at Martin. Some nights like this, he likes to feel Martin's skin against his. "Please," he says.

Martin nods and pulls off his boxers, too. With their suits hung up and their underclothes on the floor, they climb into bed, naked. Danny curls around Martin, comfortably close but not clinging, and nods off almost instantly.

It takes Martin a few minutes to feel the haze of sleep coming over him, and while he waits, he tries to just feel and not think. The case of the day is washing over him, but he pushes it aside as best as he can and concentrates on what _is_, now. He's warm and safe and Danny is warm and safe and sleeping peacefully, which means, for the moment at least, he's not drowning in the painful memories of his youth. Martin lets this thought wash over him-- Danny, warm and safe and peaceful-- and feels a certain peace washing over him, as well. Tomorrow will no doubt bring a return of Danny's many ghosts, but for now, Martin has done his job and banished the demons.

He sleeps.

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End file.
